One Night at the Club
by QueenCheetah
Summary: AU- An irritated bartender tries to correct a slight mix-up, only to find that he is well-rewarded for his efforts. Tendershipping One-shot BxR


It was another typical night at "Club Tuiles." One of the bartenders, a surly-looking man with pale skin and even lighter hair, was currently scowling at the crowded dance floor. His scarlet eyes drifted cynically across the sea of club-goers.

Mr. Bakura Touzokou had only started working at "Tuiles" a few months ago, and the pay sucked. The club was geared towards the younger crowd; and whether they were broke or just stingy, Bakura's tips had taken a sizable hit since his last job. He glowered at the martini glass he was currently cleaning.

'Tch... damn brats.'

The twenty-five year-old had previously worked at a rather upscale restaurant, 'Le Nezdans L'air.' The clients there had been snobbish, true; but they also had tons more cash to burn. So long as he kept his mouth shut, he could make a lot of tips every evening. But then he'd gotten into an 'altercation' with one particularly drunk bigot; and, well... Mr. Touzokou wasn't known for his level-headiness. His hot temper and snarky attitude often put him at odds with most people. So he'd been 'let go' and had reluctantly taken the only job he could find- tending bar in a noisy club for barely-legal brats.

"So __then__ I said to the manager, 'well that might be __your__ definition of a vegan salad, but that sure isn't mine!'"

"Hn?" The irate barkeep glanced up as he saw three people approaching his section of the lounge. Two men, both sporting spikey blonde hair and dark-toned skin, were conversing with a very pale woman. As the trio got closer, Bakura couldn't help but notice that the girl's hair was strangely similar to his own. Long and silvery-white, with a nearly symmetrical set of spikes running down the back. But the lady's hair was even lighter in color, and seemed less wild.

'It's probably bleached, anyway.' Bakura looked over the unusual young woman. She was wearing tight, black pants and a dark purple shirt that was far too large for her thin frame. 'Probably trying to give the illusion that she actually has cleavage.' The bartender thought snidely to himself as he looked up.

"What'll it be?" The barman bluntly asked the new patrons.

The two blondes smirked as they each ordered a different cocktail.

The barman nodded gruffly, indicating that he'd got their orders. He then turned to the girl, who seemed shyer than her comrades. "And you?"

She blinked her large, doe eyes and tentatively asked, "um, can I have a margarita, please? With no salt?"

Bakura stared at the slight girl and automatically replied, "ID."

"Huh? Oh!" She looked rather surprised by the request, and Bakura nearly rolled his eyes. This girl looked a lot closer to twelve than twenty-one- had no one ever carded her before?!

"Sorry, I've never been carded before!"

The bartender nearly face-palmed. __'...go figure.'__

He quickly glanced over the thin, plastic card he was handed. He smirked as he almost instantly noticed something off.

True, the card said the holder was 23, which would make her of legal drinking age- __if__ it was a valid ID. Bakura snorted and handed the card back to the bewildered owner. "Nice try."

"Eh?" She lightly grasped the card before tilting her head slightly in bewilderment. "W-what do you mean, 'nice try?'"

The barkeeper grabbed the card back and turned it around. "If you're going to pay for a high-quality fake, you should _at least_ make sure they get the gender right." Mr. Touzokou smirked as he pointed to the bold 'M' in the middle of the card.

The two blondes, who had been watching the whole exchange, suddenly covered their mouths. They seemed to be struggling to not to give in to mirrored fits of laughter.

The girl, meanwhile, seemed to deflate.

"B-but I'm _not_ -"

"Hey, pretty lady." A rather besotted loser suddenly grabbed the bar stool next to the smallest patron and sat down. "You look rather lonesome here- wanna party with a real man?" He sloppily pointed to himself with one thumb, while leering creepily at the card owner.

The two blondes stopped snickering, but didn't say anything. They just kept their violet eyes trained on their friend.

The girl paused for a second, her face growing displeased. Then she turned in her seat to face the sloshed lech, and coldly declared: " _ _Excuse you__ , I AM a real man." 'She' then pulled down the front of 'her' shirt to emphasize 'her' flat chest.

The drunken louse blinked in confusion, evidently thrown by the 'girl's' statement. "W-wha-?" His expression quickly changed to anger and his glowered at the trio. "Wait, you one of those f***ing f****ts who thinks they're something else?!"

At this point, the (now confirmed) guy was nearly trembling with emotion. Bakura felt a twinge of guilt as he realized he'd made the same mistake. The overly-large shirt wasn't meant to create cleavage- it was just a loose shirt.

The pale 'girl' really was a guy.

"We don't allow that kind of derogatory language here." The bartender hissed at the inebriated jerk. "So either shut up, or get the f*ck out."

"Oh yeah?" The still-smashed customer snorted at the pale server. "An' whadda _**_**you**_**_ gonna do about it, huh, ya pale string bean?"

But Bakura only smirked. "Not a damn thing."

Thankfully, the bar had several small 'panic buttons' installed under the counters shortly after opening. The tiny red circles were hidden under the bar's top shelf, out of sight from the patrons. But each one immediately signaled to the security team that one of the bartenders required their 'assistance.' And Bakura had pressed his as soon as he'd heard the second 'f' word.

The inebriated sot continued grinning, clearly thinking that he'd won the battle. But his smug smile soon faded when a massive form passed through the dance floor and headed directly towards them. Within moments, a hulking man in a black shirt stomped up to the bar. His expression seemed to be fixed in a permanent scowl, and he spoke in a gruff voice.

"Oy, what's up, Bakura?" Standing at 6' 6", the senior security guard already towered over the average Japanese citizen. This height, combined with his excessive weight-lifting habits, meant that Ushio could usually scare the pants off any unruly customers without even touching them.

The barkeeper smirked as he gestured towards the drunken fool. "Ushio, this gentleman is using some highly offensive language, and it's upsetting the other patrons- would you kindly introduce him to our industrial-sized dumpster out back?"

The massive man grinned and cracked his knuckles threateningly. "Gladly."

The jerk's eyes widened and he quickly scurried out the front door without further fuss.

Bakura watched the lush flee before turning to the giant bouncer. "That's fine, thanks."

Ushio only nodded once before skulking back to the other side of the club.

Meanwhile, the white-haired customer was frowning at his friends. He sounded distressed as he spoke. "Alright, you were right!" The two foreigners blinked in unison, but didn't interrupt their cohort. "I'll consider cutting it!" The young man's eyes seemed to be tearing up as he pulled out his wallet. He grabbed a single twenty and placed it on the counter.

"Keep the change." The patron muttered dejectedly before getting up and heading towards the front door.

Bakura blinked- a single margarita would've been less than $5.50, with tax. Did this guy really mean to tip almost 300% of his tab?

"Ryou..." The shorter blonde tried to get his friend to stop, but didn't press further when he was ignored. The pale man didn't flinch as he weaved his way around the other tables and clubbers. Eventually the shy stranger headed out the main door, not looking back once.

The bartender sighed, figuring it wasn't worth trying to decipher the other man's actions- only to realize that he still had the guy's (apparently genuine) ID in his fist.

'Crap- I really should return this.'

He ignored the blathering blondes and headed for the main entrance with both the ID and the $20 bill in hand.

Bakura glanced at the identification card again, and noticed something strange. 'His full name is 'Ryou Bakura'- huh. What a weird coincidence.'

The sidewalk outside the club was rather empty- 'Tuiles' didn't have much VIP appeal, so there were rarely lines of people waiting to get inside. Bakura quickly spotted the light-haired figure standing off to one side, leaning against the stone siding of the club.

The lone boy was just gazing up at the night sky, clearly lost in thought. His eyes were misty, but held no tears.

Not wanting to startle the kid, the displaced server cleared his throat before holding out the authentic ID.

"Hey- uh, you forgot this inside."

"Oh, thank you!" The patron's eyes lit up as he quickly grabbed the plastic card. "That's the last kind of hassle I need right now." The so-named 'Ryou Bakura' gave a sigh of relief and placed the ID back in his wallet.

The bartender put his hands in his pockets as he awkwardly tried to apologize. "Er, sorry I mistook you for... y'know."

"It's okay..." The slender customer sighed. "In fact, my friends were just telling me earlier today that I need a shorter hairstyle."

"It __is__ rather long." Bakura admitted. "Not exactly the best style if you're trying to not be mis-gendered by strangers."

"I know..." Ryou muttered quietly. "But, I really don't want to get it cut. It's a... well, it's kind of a memorial."

"A... _memorial_?"'

The shorter male nodded somberly. "Yes... when I was younger, I had a little sister named 'Amane.' She was so sweet and kind- she got along with everyone. And we were almost inseparable." He gently tugged on a lock of his silvery-white hair. "We even had the same unusual colored hair, and people used to think we were twins. And though she was nearly three years younger in age, we got along wonderfully, and we did everything together. She was a beautiful soul... but..."

Normally, Bakura would grow bored with the inane stories that his drunken patrons often unloaded onto his (unwilling) ears. But for some reason, this youth spoke in a passionate tone that made him want to listen.

"One rainy day, my mother decided to take her to the mall to go shoe shopping... another driver lost control, and he hit them. It was tragic... they all died at the scene..."

Ryou paused for a moment before clearing his throat and continuing.

"Naturally, my father was very busy after that, and several months passed before he took me to the barber. My hair had grown quite a lot by then, and it really needed to be cut." The caramel-toned eyes seemed to grow softer with fondness. "But as I was sitting in front of the mirror in the shop chair, I thought I saw something... I swear, I almost saw Amane's face smiling back at me. My hair looked the same as hers did, and I could almost hear her sweet laughter- it was like seeing her again." The patron shook his head in embarrassment. "But then the barber tried to cut my hair, and I started shrieking- I think the poor man nearly had a heart attack! Still, I wanted to keep my hair long, as a reminder of the bright spirit of my beloved sister. My father agreed, so the barber gave me a quick trim instead." The boy gave a forced smile as he finished his tale. "And, well, my hair's been the same length ever since."

Bakura felt a bit overwhelmed- he would never have suspected that the other man had such a profound reason for not cutting his hair. "Wow... that's... really incredible."

Ryou shook his head, a sad smile on his face. "It's never been much of a problem, but now that I'm older and trying to start dating; well..."

"People keep mistaking you for a woman." Bakura finished bluntly.

The tired patron gave another sigh. "Bingo. I mean, I wouldn't mind if they'd listen when I say 'not interested,' but some of those guys are really insistent jerks."

"You do have a feminine build, but I think what's sealing the deal is that outfit." The barkeep pointed to the over-sized shirt and tight black pants. "You should buy something that actually fits you- I'm sure those pants and that shirt are also available in __your__ size."

"Oh, these clothes aren't mine." Ryou smiled as he tugged at one of the shirt's golden buttons. "My friend, Malik, (the shorter blonde) looked through my closet and said I didn't have anything 'acceptable' for clubbing."

Bakura's face fell into a blank stare as he pictured the other two patrons from before. "Let me get this straight: you're looking for advice on dressing masculine from that guy?"

The other youth actually giggled and waved one hand in dismissal. "Oh, Malik's just trying to help. He can't help but be a little flamboyant."

"A __little__?"

Ryou chuckled again, and Bakura was pleased to hear the same gentle mirth. He could listen to that laugh for hours. It was a very pleasant sound- not at all like the drunken guffawing the bartender usually heard every night. Mr. Touzokou glanced subtly towards the club's main doors.

"Y'know, you never did get your drink. And I didn't exactly make those two blondes anything, either." The server nodded towards the open entrance. "You wanna come back inside? You won't have to pay the entry fee again if I say you're with me."

Ryou glanced towards the noisy entrance and the gaudy neon sign flashing the name, 'Club Tuiles.' "Um... truth be told, clubbing isn't really my thing... Marik and Malik just said it was a good place for me to meet someone our age..."

Bakura frowned. "If you find someone at a club, they're probably a clubber... or a drunk. Which means they'll just drag you to more clubs... or bars."

The naive young man blinked at the observation. "Oh, I never thought of that way... hmm. You've got a point- I certainly wouldn't want to fall for someone with opposing interests..." The long-haired youth gave a partial bow of gratitude. "Thank you again, for your help... and the advice. I hope you won't get in trouble for chasing me down."

"No problem." The bartender flashed a dazzling grin. "You're the first interesting person I've met at this job."

"Really? I would think you'd meet a lot of cool people working at a place like this." The shorter man gestured to the neon 'Tuiles' sign.

Bakura snorted before shaking his head. "I'm not exactly into club-goers myself. And I already handle enough drunks while I'm on the clock- I sure don't plan on putting up with them when I'm not being paid, too!"  
Ryou snickered lightly. "I see- in that case, I'm glad I met you as well."

Bakura noticed a faint line of pink tinging the cheeks of the other male. 'I wonder...' Curious, the bartender decided to see if his hunch was right. "Y'know, there's a lot of girls our age at the Fantana Club on Southern Street- if that's what you're looking for."

The shyer male looked sideways. His face seemed to flush further as he quietly replied, "um... I'm not really into __girls, per se__ -"

" _ ** _ **Touzokou!"**_**_

'Sh*t!' Bakura nearly jumped a foot in the air when he heard that unmistakable voice. The deep, angry tone was easy for Bakura Touzokou to recognize- it was his boss.

Mr. Yamashita, the owner of the club, was a very stern man; and a skinflint as well. He didn't tolerate his employees taking 'unauthorized breaks' without good reason.

The older man glared at his newer employee before hissing, "I certainly hope you're interviewing for another job, as leaving your post is grounds for dismissal here at 'Club Tuilles'?"

'Oh crap...' The startled bartender nearly gulped in anxiety. He knew it'd be hard to get another job if he had only a couple week's worth of time at this place on his resume. Mr. Yamashita's glare didn't lessen as he waited for a response.

Bakura was about to reply, when the patron unexpectedly stepped in, his voice taking on a slightly nervous pitch. "Um, excuse me, sir? I-I accidentally left my ID behind at the bar, and your bartender was kind enough to chase me down and hand it back to me- I'm very grateful." The young male gave another brief bow to the staff member. "It would have been a huge hassle if I had gotten home without it. In fact, I was just insisting that I __had__ to reward him, and he kept politely refusing."

The crumpled $20 bill in the server's hand seemed to prove this statement, and Mr. Yamashita only nodded once in acceptance. "Very well. Get back inside soon, barkeep- and don't pester this young lady all night. I'm sure she has better things to do."

The 'lady's' face drooped and Bakura just flatly replied, "Yes, boss." The older man marched back to the club entrance, evidently looking for other employees to harass.

Bakura felt his shoulders relax in near-giddy relief- he half expected to be fired after he was caught off-post! The bartender turned to thank the pale customer, but paused when he saw the look on Ryou's face.

The mis-gendered man still looked depressed after Mr. Yamashita's parting words.

"Hey." The club server put on a winning smile and gestured towards the doors. "I wouldn't take it personally- Mr. Yamashita's such a skinflint, he refuses to pay attention to anything." The bold barkeeper added a teasing wink at the end of his statement.

Ryou let out a short laugh before noticing just how charismatic the other man could be. 'Wow, he's rather sexy when he does that wink...'

Bakura gestured to the $20 bill still resting in his hand. "Y'know... speaking of 'paying', I could help you dress a little more... masculine, if you're up for a shopping trip sometime." He gave a casual grin, which the other youth quickly mirrored.

"Oh? Are you saying that my current outfit isn't attractive enough?" The patron playfully suggested.

Mr. Touzokou snorted before shifting closer to the endearing customer. "Oh, trust me, there's only one place those clothes would look good."

Ryou blinked, feeling a bit flustered by the sudden closeness. "O-on my friend, Malik?"

Bakura smirked before whispering suggestively into the patron's ear, __"I was actually thinking of my bedroom floor."__

Less than hour later, 'Club Tuiles' was preparing to shut down after a long night. All the club-goers had been ushered out, and Ushio was running his final security check for the night. The security leader was a bit surprised to find that the bartender Bakura was sporting both a dark, red mark on his face (which was shaped suspiciously like a hand) __and__ a very wide grin. The white-haired server was also gripping a small shred of paper, which seemed to have a single phone number written on it. Ushio was supposed to investigate any 'incidents' that occurred on club property, but the injured barkeep seemed perfectly content. So the bewildered bodyguard just shrugged it off as they finished locking up for the night.

After all, he'd seen weirder things happen at the 'Club Tuiles.'


End file.
